


Soul Staring

by SoraMJigen



Category: Blues Brothers (Movies)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Blues, Blushing, Concerts, Dancing, Dating, Eyes, Love, Other, Reader-Insert, Relationship(s), Romance, Self-Insert, Slow Dancing, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 13:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4481006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoraMJigen/pseuds/SoraMJigen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot. Elwood Blues x Reader. What exactly rests behind those shades? You just might see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soul Staring

**Author's Note:**

> So...I kind of noticed that there weren't that many Elwood Blues x Reader fics. I decided, why the Hell not?

It was an exclusive right to date Elwood Blues, knowing how many times the man would find himself in one night stands and flings. You just so happened to be one lucky little individual to attract his eye to go beyond the bedroom and actually form something with. Far more than a fling and more than a hook up, you knew you were secure in this man’s view. Would he have just wanted sex, he would have left by now, but here he was picking you up once again on your date. Donned in his typical outfit of a black suit with a fedora and shades to match, the man was handsome and he greeted you with a soft smirk, a trademark expression of his whenever you stood before him or held or kissed him.

Where you were going, he would not say and allowed you to think. Normally, he would have taken you to a dive or a bar where he knew the blues was properly played and the food was good. It boded well with his personality and you swore that the dim light on him did something for you. It made his hair appear as though it were crafted from finely woven strands of brass and his suit and shadow merge, giving him an even deeper sense of mystery. After a while the cologne of cigarettes and alcohol became accustomed to you and neither one bothered you. Sometimes, he would crinkle his nose, but returned to sitting in tranquility and watching the performers croon. Every so often, he would whisper in your ear about the musicians’ techniques and how he would never desert you like those who were still feeling the agonizing pain of their divorce or death of their beloved. With every word he spoke, you listened as though you were draining the man of his knowledge of his craft and the adoration he felt for you.

Sometimes, his brother Jake would join you two or meet up with you. From what you could tell, he liked you and knew how to make you smile, just like his brother. Usually if Jake knew you and Elwood were attending an open mic night or watching a friend of theirs’ perform, he would appear and take the stage with Elwood. Some nights, Elwood would perform solo, his baritone vocals drifting through the room and melding with the other emotions left by those before him who sang of depression and heartbreak and loss. Those tones soothed your soul and drew you to him even more so like a lost sailor at sea to a siren. You already were drawn to him with how he treated you like a person who deserved the utmost of respect and how your soul was old and worn and understood the nature of music. You knew the art had been around since the dawn of man and you knew how it (mostly) crafted notes from the heart, each tune matching to heart beats of people everywhere including the musician(s).The blues was no exception and you often found that those somber songs that played on the radio were what kept you going through your shift without wanting to punch someone in the throat.

You lived in Munster in the northwestern part of Indiana, a ten minute drive from Calumet City and when Elwood learned this, he jokingly asked if you knew the Munsters from the titular black and white program. You laughed, having received this joke enough times in your life to take it as such. He made it special though in that it was him saying it and that how every other person who ever spoke it seemed lifeless. It was how his voice carried the words that made you giggle and he’d receive a little smirk from your laughter. You lived in an apartment complex and had the simple a customer service job at a banking firm and you swore that for every single stupid question you heard, you wanted to run the person over with your car. It was a dull job, but at least it paid your bills and gave you a place to live. 

You met Elwood while browsing the blues bars throughout Indiana only to find that there were very few that had any soul or substance to them. So you travelled to Illinois, snooping around Calumet City, Chicago, and other counties and cities. Sometimes you went to the far north to Warren or west to La Harpe, searching for a bar to fit your needs. Though it appeared that almost every bar you went to, you happened to stumble across two men who dressed like the CIA with shades and fedoras. You had heard of them from the locals in your town due to their popularity, especially after playing a few gigs throughout the nation. They had sounded well in your head and you would often find yourself usually lured in by their act as well as the other musicians that were present at the bar. You swore it was by coincidence though that they just so happened to be playing at the bars you attended. You were no stalker or follower, but you did believe in fate as well as someone higher up. Clearly, someone or something was playing the cards that would cause you to constantly see The Blues Brothers, but you rode with it, not wanting to doubt or chance fate. Rather, you were curious of the outcome and you believed Elwood to be handsome. Usually, the brothers would hang out with the other musicians after their sets at the bar. The tall one, Elwood, never had that much to drink as to where his brother took on more. It so happened that one fortunate evening that Elwood left his brother momentarily to see you and tell you that he had seen you in the audience at every performance and that he was rather content to see you for some inexplicable reason. You kicked out the chair adjacent to you and offered to buy him a drink. He smirked. He liked your style.

So since that fateful evening you two had managed to see each other. He was rather loyal and caring despite his demeanor and you smirked, knowing how the man worked. It was your little secret that no one could obtain or take away from you. Time had flown by and now you found yourself into half a year of dating him. You were both slow, in no rush to accelerate into a relationship, but rather, allow it to brew and eventually bloom. You were also both rather old fashioned and that seemed to appease Elwood greatly, though you both had gone ahead and taken part in the deed before marriage. Both of you didn’t complain about that and thoroughly enjoyed it when you so desired.

Though something had made you wonder since day one: what exactly rested behind those shades. Those shades that complimented him nicely, but also made you question what his eyes looked like. You had never seen a photograph or performance where he didn’t have his shades off. Come to think of it, the only time he had ever removed them was when he was having intercourse with you and only then would he take them off because the room was engulfed in darkness. Through the shadows you never saw his eyes, but it never bothered you. Outside the bedroom, the shades were always on his face like a second skin. They were a part of him and would only remove them when he was comfortable. By no means would you pressure him or demand that he take them off for you. 

This evening seemed rather different. As usual, you both had dinner in some bar uptown, the night was young so there were no performers yet. Performances didn’t usually begin until 8 o clock and you wondered what Elwood had up his sleeves. He usually picked you up a half hour before the acts began, but here he was at an earlier time. Smirking, you allowed the night to unravel as you ate and talked about life with him and he listened attentively while working on something in his head. What it was, he wouldn’t say, but told you that you would see it soon enough. Afterwards, you drove past the bars and dives and clubs in the Bluesmobile, Elwood distracting you with small talk as he took notice of your eyes darting between the buildings. You noticed this behavior and believed it to be strange, but you knew he did this at times to surprise you. You allowed him to distract you, to take your mind off the possible notions forming in your head as to where you would wind up.

This was strange and you almost wondered who this man beside you was. He was open minded to a degree, knowing how cold the world was, but knowing that one could not hide from it eternally. To hide from the world would mean to deprive yourself of opportunity and new experiences; most of which you did not want to hinder yourself from. Elwood had his limits and you respected them, just as he returned the expression.

Pulling up to Tuley Park, your eyebrow rose. The man hadn’t taken you to many parks other than strolls at night when the world was quiet with the sound of crickets and grasshoppers chirping. Nature’s music he called it, just like the falling of the rain, the calling of the tide, and the whistling of the warm summer winds. There were melodies that could sometimes replicate the harshness dealt upon artists by the blues – the roaring wind in a thunderstorm, the slamming beat of a door, the endless falling of a downpour, the revving of an engine started by an angry woman. They were cold tones that spun within musicians’ heads and made them cry and sing. These sounds breathed life into their craft and Elwood knew the sensation all too well. The pointer from Sister Mary of the Blessed Shroud snapped in his head from time to time, a beat to create a new tune. The revving of the Bluesmobile when it accelerated, the way the rain hit the streets, the crunching of the snow under his shoes, all sounds that rang throughout his head that mingled with his experiences used to create his blues.

Escorting you from the car, he held your hand and led you to a field where a small wooden stage was erect. Lanterns draped around the stage and the concert area, the candlelight intermingling with the sun. On the stage were a few men tuning their instruments and checking their gear. The grass before the attraction served as the dance floor with tin chairs crowded around the grass. Fireflies began to flit through the air, specks of light occasionally resting on Elwood’s palm and your shoulder. You smiled softly as they crawled about before taking flight once more. So far few people had taken various seats for the park performance, a mix of young and old who wanted to hear some blues from a man and his group who had experienced life and all its joys and cruelty. He was an elderly dark skinned man, sitting on the stage adjusting his guitar while wearing a comfortable suit designed for the summer. Ivory and gentle jade green hung from his frame, allowing his body to breathe in the setting sun heat. His band mates wore clothes of the similar nature with colors that made them comfortable and exposed their personalities.

Elwood led you to two front seats that weren’t occupied and you smiled. So this is what he had in mind as he wrapped an arm around the back of your chair and you inched closer to him. The laughter of children at the playground could faintly be heard and the chatter of attendants seemed to grow as more people sat down. Most of them spoke about their day and gossiped about strangers who you and Elwood knew would never meet despite how small the world was. As the minutes passed, people ended their conversations as they watched the performers finish testing their equipment. Within moments, they began to croon on their microphones of how their wives left them by death or divorce or cheating. Their notes rode the wind like a surfer to the tide and made your heart sympathize with them, understanding how they never stopped suffering since these tragic events occurred. After a few sets they introduced themselves as The Grasshopper Pox and that they would play until they could sing no more, causing the audience to smile in delight. They spoke of how they grew up surrounding Calumet City, with their thick Illinois accents and how their songs encompassed their hardships and joys that life had to offer them. Without another word, they picked up the musical pace and began to wail more songs of disappearing relatives, ungodly landlords, poverty, sex, and how death could easily snatch away something so precious like a child, lover, or pet. 

You and Elwood smirked, knowing the struggles of detestable landlords and how you couldn’t pay the rent on time as well as other bills. Of course then it was a balancing act of what was important to pay and what could wait for a few days. You were a sensible person and had a great sense of judgment. You knew what could be done without for a few days and knew what to do should the situation ever occur. It was a hassle that most adults encountered and weren’t too fond of, but it had to be endured should it ever arise. While you were able to cover everything for yourself, you did experience the anxiety of not being able to pay for everything all at once. You knew Elwood paid the rent for his dwelling, but no one seemed to bother him about it should he ever be late or couldn’t afford it that month.

Then a song emerged from the soft spoken bassist who sang of how the waves of the Atlantic Ocean still called for him. Of how he was homesick and lonesome without the sea and missed his New York stomping grounds. Of how he played by the ocean as a child and loved it dearly before he moved to Illinois because his family couldn’t afford their home in New York. From there on, he gained the accent that would never define his soul, but rather make him appreciate the life he had gained in Illinois. 

Elwood looked at you from the corner of his eye. Fixated by the man’s voice, your eyes never left the soft yet soulful singing of the bassist and Elwood smirked in satisfaction. He rose from the chair and presented his hand to you, snapping you from the singer. Looking into his shades, you swore you saw a sliver of his eyes peek over the glass. A spot of ocean blue met with a flicker of hazel and you arched your eyebrows in wonder, having never seen his eyes before. 

“Do you want to dance?” He asked you softly, a reddish hue faint on your cheeks, slowly creeping onto your face. Nodding, you reached out for his hand and he cupped your fingers as though they were made of glass.

Leading you onto the grass, he placed a gentle kiss on the back of your hand and smiled as you swore you turned red. He swept your hand to the back of his neck and your other hand followed suit. His slender fingers ran down the lengths of your arms, his fingertips running along your smooth shoulder blades, and resting at the small of your back. Swallowing hard, your cheeks felt as warm as the Sun and were possibly just as bright. Elwood gently you pulled to him and slowly led the dance, allowing you to easily follow along. You were the only dancers in front of the audience and the crowd flicked their eyes between you and the performers. They watched you with uncertainty and encouragement, that you were so brave to rise and dance before a full house. Others watched in envy, wishing they could be as brave as you two dancing before the stage. Elwood smirked, not caring about the world around him, but only focusing on you and the music. His shades seemed transfixed on your lantern lit eyes that swirled with content. 

As you felt the grass beneath your shoes, the instruments seemed to sway in tune with how you and Elwood moved about. Staring into those eyes behind the shades, you often wondered what they looked like. You had just received a glimpse and would not ask him to remove the shades. Elwood, after all this time, having never removed the accessory, but it didn’t bother you in the least bit. The shades complimented him nicely and aided in his iconic appearance that him and his brother shared. You always felt his eyes on you behind those shades and you rather liked it, knowing that he was always watching you and looking out for you. You would turn your head and he would look away sometimes, smirking softly and knowing why you would suddenly look at him. You were clever; he liked that.

You swore with every step you took, fireflies fled from grass blade to grass blade, wanting to avoid being squashed. Their tiny lights seemed like freckles of the setting Sun at your back as Elwood smiled softly. Every so often fireflies would flare upward from the ground and cluster around you two, creating a shaken ring that attracted others to leave their seats and dance alongside you. The band watched the crowd as they rose to dance and fully immerse themselves in the tunes they crooned and smiled. 

The concert stretched beyond the setting sun and into the warm evening and night. You swayed and moved to the rhythm the band produced and with every song you took it as another opportunity to have fun with your partner. At times, you tore from the crowded worn grass and reclined in the chairs with Elwood. It wasn’t long until you both rose once more and started to move and groove in time with the band’s harmony. After hours of dancing until your feet were sore and your legs could no longer move, you noticed the band started their closing number. By now, some of the crowd had left, having responsibility to tend to in the morning, but neither you nor Elwood had such a task and you quietly thanked God for off days. As the band crooned the final notes of their closing number, you and Elwood applauded them for such a great show. He would later get their number and ask if they would want to collaborate with Jake on a few performances in some bars. They knew how to play and get the audience to feel what resided in their souls and he was sure that together they would create a fantastic feast for the eyes and ears.

As Elwood drove you back to your apartment in Munster, he watched you from the corner of his eye and how the wind played with your hair. He always loved when the wind kicked up and ran its transparent fingers through your hair and how it transformed your brushed hair into a windswept wilderness that made his heart stop. While he liked when you did your hair on a daily basis, he sometimes loved how the wind transformed it, unleashing a more natural look than hairspray and gel.

“So…what’d you think?” Elwood asked quietly, almost breathless from the dancing.

“It was wonderful! I had a really great time.” A sly grin appeared on his face as he watched a smile surface with every word you spoke.

The drive to your apartment seemed longer than normal. Maybe the draping darkness of night seemed to stop time if only for a few hours just so he could sneak a peek at your beauty and listen to you talk about The Grasshopper Pox. He would join in and further the conversation into the techniques they used and compared them to his own. You listened, understanding the art of the blues much more than what you had already known. You absorbed Elwood’s knowledge like a flower drinking in the sunlight and enjoyed learning more about what he had so passionately devoted himself to in life. Not once did you want him to stop talking, but time and conversation often worked hand in hand in making moments fly by. You swore no sooner he started to discuss various guitar techniques that Matt “Guitar” Murphy, you were at your apartment. Continuing the conversation up the stairs and the complex’s door, he knew this was where he had to regretfully leave you. Sighing softly to yourself, you didn’t want him to go, but it was late and you knew you were worn like a beaten baseball glove. He understood this and knew you would want to do nothing more than take a shower and crawl into bed, the shower’s warmth still radiating from your body.

“Want to go out next week? Same day?”

“Yep.” Elwood spoke in his dry, normal tone that you had grown accustomed to after all this time. Leaning down, he kissed your lips softly. His lips rough from the blues harp, but in a strange way you rather liked that. It demonstrated just how committed he was to his work as a musician and how he would possibly lay his soul on the line for his art. 

Cupping your cheeks softly, Elwood didn’t want to leave you, but he knew he had to because he knew what you had in mind once he drove away.  
Pulling away, his body froze as he felt his glasses tumble from his face. Quickly diving down, you grabbed the shades before they could conflict and possibly shatter from the concrete stairs. Snatching them in mid air, your shoulders relaxed knowing that they weren’t harmed. Yet they tensed once more, knowing what would occur now. You would see Elwood’s eyes. It was something Elwood had never wanted you to see (or so it appeared), but now there was no choice in the matter. His eyes were exposed to you and no one else; it was as though he was baring his soul and you were ready to see what rested inside.

Looking up, you slowly rose, locking eyes with his’. The porch lamplight was dim, but it was enough to give way to his orbs. An unfurling ocean on his right and a stern hazel on his left and you smiled. Heterochromia was a gorgeous condition and while it was often found in huskies, humans were known to have it as well. It was a rare disorder, but by no means was it a disorder or defect. Rather, it seemed to enhance the beauty the person possessed and Elwood was no exception. His eyes flared with concern as he watched you stare into them and dive deeply into his soul where the blues worked like cogs in a clock. You looked into his soul and saw how hard the world had beaten up his spirit and how he carried on like a soldier after war. You saw those orbs flicker with roughness that the world had passed onto him through experience and not once did they flinch and neither did you.

“They’re beautiful.” You whispered softly and returned Elwood’s shades. Taking them from you, he slowly adjusted them onto his face, allowing you to capture one last glimpse of eyes before they disappeared behind the shades. A soft shade of pink had emerged over his cheeks and he smirked before leaving you at the porch and taking off into the dark night with his Bluesmobile.


End file.
